


i want to walk home with you

by starlight_sugar



Series: The General Specific [8]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5787136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_sugar/pseuds/starlight_sugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon looks out at the class as deadpan as he can. “This is the part where I tell you that Dr. Luna and I are dating, but that doesn’t mean that he should be harassing us all the time.”</p><p>(Or: It's a new semester, and it's full of new opportunities.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i want to walk home with you

**Author's Note:**

> Rooster Teeth does not have my permission to use any portion of my writing in their content.

**AN INVASION COMES TO TOWN**

dir. Ryan Haywood and Lindsay Jones

written by Miles Luna and Kerry Shawcross

.

Jon’s favorite part of new semesters goes like this:

There’s no point in having a day dedicated only to a syllabus, so he starts every class in every semester by handing a sheet of paper to each student. “Your first assignment is to draw something for me,” he says. “I don’t care what it is, it can be the Mona Lisa or an incredibly elaborate drawing of any part of the human body.”

“Any part, Professor Risinger?” someone calls from the back of the class.

Jon cranes his neck and sees Ben King, sitting in the same seat he sat in last semester and grinning just as cheekily. It’s always nice when students come back for more classes with him. It means he’s doing something right.

“Yes, Benjamin,” Jon says as patronisingly as possible. “Any part.”

“Excellent,” Ben says, and gets to work.

Jon shakes his head and goes back to his spiel. “You draw me anything you want, and you bring it to me. This is how I’m taking attendance, and you’ll only get your syllabus from me after you give me your drawing. So for everyone sitting there thinking ‘he won’t notice if I don’t turn one in,’ yes, I will. We’ll go through the syllabus after I have a drawing from all of you, and then we’ll get started on basic concept reviews.”

“What if we can’t draw?” someone says from the front row.

“Tough luck,” Jon says, but makes sure to follow it up with, “That’s not the point of this class. There’s just no point in your tuition money going to a day where I give you a schedule and send you on your way.”

Ben stands up abruptly. “First done,” he calls, earning some eyerolls. He saunters up to the front of the class and puts his sheet of paper on Jon’s desk. “Human anatomy.”

Jon looks down. It’s a sketch - quick and rough, but not bad by any means - of a foot.

“You know,” he says, “that’s not what I expected.”

Ben flips the paper over. There’s a drawing of a dick.

Jon can’t help but grin as he hands Ben a syllabus. “Welcome back, Ben.”

“Thank you, professor.” Ben waves at Jon as he goes back to his seat.

Yes, this is Jon’s favorite part of new semesters, just because he always gets a weird collection of drawings. In this class he ends up with three more dick drawings, all in varying detail and size, but he also gets some self portraits, plenty of stick figures, two anime drawings, a doodle of Calvin and Hobbes, and an incredibly detailed drawing of Venom.

“Spiderman fan?” he asks, adding that last one to his stack.

The student shrugs. “I just like drawing cool things.”

“Well, it’s pretty cool.” Jon skims the attendance list. “The only person who hasn’t turned anything in yet is Jeremy Dooley.”

“What a coincidence,” the student deadpans, picking up a syllabus from the stack. “Guess what my name is?”

“Welcome to class, Jeremy.”

Jeremy grins at him. “Thanks, I’m looking forward to it.” He starts back to his seat, and Jon stands up, assessing the class. Nobody else seems to be drawing, so it must be syllabus time.

Jon picks up his copy of the syllabus. “All right,” he says, and all eyes go to him. Ah, the power of being a teacher. “Let’s go over this thing, see what we’re doing.”

“Introduce yourself,” Ben yells from the back of the class.

Jon sighs. “Ben had my intro class last semester,” he announces to the room at large. “He thinks that means that he doesn’t have to respect me anymore.”

“I was in your class last semester,” Miles points out from the doorway. A couple of students turn and gape. “And I still respect you.”

“But you weren’t a student, Dr. Luna,” Ben says. “It’s not the same.”

Jon gets the distinct feeling that this class is getting away from him. “Well,” he says, drawing everyone’s attention back to him, “I will introduce myself, thank you, Ben. I’m Professor Risinger, and I’m here to teach you how to make pretty things.”

“You are a pretty thing,” Miles says, and the class bursts into giggles. Jon tries to give him a glare, but Miles just shrugs and smiles wider, and it’s kind of impossible to keep glaring at that.

“Thank you, Dr. Luna,” Jon says as patiently as he can manage. “If you aren’t familiar with Dr. Luna, you should take one of his English classes sometime. He’s exactly like this all the time, I’ve been told it’s a lot of fun.”

“But you never visit me,” Miles says, practically pouting.

Jon waves him off. “I have office hours, which brings us nicely to the syllabus. If you take a look, you’ll see that I have office hours! You should come see me. If you don’t come to my office hours and you find yourself struggling, then there’s an easy step you can take to stop struggling.”

“Visit him, he gets lonely,” Miles adds. More giggles.

Jon looks out at the class as deadpan as he can. “This is the part where I tell you that Dr. Luna and I are dating, but that doesn’t mean that he should be harassing us all the time.”

“I’ll harass you anyways,” Miles says, and waves at the class. “But for now, you know, first week, things to do, places to be. Come audition for the play, I wrote it, it’s going to be great. See you, Jon!”

“Bye, Miles,” Jon says automatically, and then remembers that he’s in class. There are a couple of people who look suspiciously close to cooing at them. Ben is grinning smugly. Jon makes a mental note to remind Ben that just because he was one of Miles’s lackeys last semester doesn’t mean that he can be an asshole.

“All right,” he sighs. “So now that we’ve established that I’m a person who does things outside of class, let’s focus on what we’re doing in class. Let’s look at this syllabus.”

.

Despite Jon’s best efforts - and he tries, he really does try every semester - nobody comes to his office hours. He’s not surprised. Just disappointed.

(“Not even upper-division students?” Chris says when Jon mentions it on Thursday night. Jon shakes his head, and Chris shrugs. “Everyone at that college is an asshole.”

“I’m at that college,” Jon says, “and I’ll have you know I’m more of an ass _hat._ ”

Chris frowns at him. “That’s something only an asshole would say.”)

It’s actually not as big of a deal as he makes of it. If nothing else, office hours are an opportunity to work on things outside of school. There’s an ad company that’s contacting him about a logo, and he has built-in time where he can’t leave his office. He has to start this logo. He gets Photoshop open and primed for design and everything. He’s ready to work, goddammit, so naturally someone pokes their head in and says “Hi, Professor Risinger.”

Jon turns around - that sounds like a student _,_ an actual student at office hours - and blinks. “What happened to your hair?”

Matt shrugs. “It’s gone.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Jon says, trying not to stare too much. “Couldn’t have figured that part out myself.”

“It’s a whole thing, it’s not worth telling the story.” Matt plops down in Jon’s spare chair. “It’s coming back, don’t worry.”

“All right,” Jon says dubiously. “What brings you here?”

“My next class doesn’t start for half an hour.” Matt slips his phone out of his pocket, visibly making himself comfortable in Jon’s chair. “I need somewhere to hang out, and I figured you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Great,” Jon says. It’s not that Matt’s wrong, he’s just annoyed by it. “How’d you find my office hours?”

“I asked Ben. And I can grade papers or something to earn my keep.”

Jon snorts. “You had my class, so tell me, what papers would you grade?”

Matt pauses. “That’s a good point,” he admits. “I can make scathing remarks about freshman projects?”

“Now that’s what I call earning your keep.” Jon spins back to his computer. “How’s your semester going, Matt?”

“It’s only the first week.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “How was your first week?”

He doesn’t see Matt shrug, but he knows it happens anyways. “It’s been class. Professor Jones and Maggie say I can definitely help out with the play, so I’m looking forward to that.”

Jon nods absently, staring at his blank Photoshop file. “So am I.”

“What’s the play about?”

“Aliens.”

Matt laughs. “Okay, sure.”

There’s a long pause. Jon takes the opportunity to start Googling the company. They already have a logo, but they’ve gone over what they like and don’t like about it, and it’s Jon’s job to make something better. He wonders if they’re opposed to neon green. That’d get them noticed for sure.

“Oh, shit,” Matt says after a minute, “are you being serious? It’s about aliens?”

Jon glances at him, letting his amusement show. “Have you met Miles?”

Matt blinks, looking thoughtful. “He would write about aliens.”

“He did write about aliens.” Jon goes back to Photoshop. Neon green would be too much. Pastels aren’t enough. They feel incredibly green to him, either way. It’s just a matter of finding the right shade.

“Aliens are cool,” Matt says, and presumably goes back to his phone. Jon goes back to his shades of green. Office hours are a lot better with someone else in the room, he thinks, even if you don’t really talk.

.

From: Meg (4:17 PM)  
Go for a run?

To: Meg (4:22 PM)  
Sure, why not.

.

“Do a 5K with me,” Meg says, about ten minutes into their run.

“Nope,” Jon answers, and that’s supposed to be the end, except it’s Meg, and she won’t let it be that simple.

“It’s not for like two months,” she says, nudging him with an elbow. “It doesn’t conflict with any dates for the play or midterms or anything, and I’ve seen you run five kilometers before.”

“But,” Jon says, and then, “ _fuck_.” He’s done a 5K or two before, and Meg is right, he’s done more than that just running with her. Not to mention, he’s not opposed, it’s just a hassle.

Meg grins at him. “The best part is boyfriends waiting at the finish line.”

Jon thinks it through. “Do you think Miles would make a sign?”

“Oh, knowing him, he would.”

“So why are you asking me to do this?”

“Eh.” Meg shrugs. “I just want a racing buddy. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. My regular race buddy hasn’t been able to make the last couple, so…”

Jon blinks, surprised. It figures that Meg would have a racing buddy if she runs so often, but she hasn’t mentioned them before. “Who’s your racing buddy?”

“Ashley, my co-anchor. She’s been busy.” Meg smiles, looking proud. “She’s been doing more in the network, I think they’re going to move her to a busier news segment.”

“You sound happy about that.”

“It’s a promotion! Ash deserves it.”

Privately, Jon just might agree. After New Year’s, he’d made a point of watching a couple of Meg’s news segments. Even if it was boring as shit listening to stories about local store owners, Meg and Ashley kept it from getting too boring. The whole team of reporters did, really, but Ashley had a deadpan way about her that Jon appreciated. If the network put her on a busier segment, then she’d definitely earned it.

“You can always have two racing buddies,” he suggests. He could use more people to hold him accountable, that’s for sure.

Meg just grins. “I’ll check with Ashley. You should come by the station sometime, fix some of our graphics.”

Jon sighs in utter fucking relief. “You know, not to be rude, but your graphics fucking suck.”

“They do!” Meg laughs. “Okay, that’s it, now you have to come and tweak something. I’ll make them pay you, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried until you insinuated that they _wouldn’t_ pay me.”

Meg just keeps running. Jon is pretty sure that he should be worried.

.

To: Miles (11:14 AM)  
Auditions end at 6?

From: Miles (11:40 AM)  
yep! but kerry and ryan and i’ll need to talk a little while afterwards so maybe come around 6:15?

To: Miles (11:43 AM)  
Done.

From: Miles (11:44 AM)  
capital letter Date Nights were the best thing we ever did for this relationship

To: Miles (11:47 AM)  
Weirdly enough I think I agree.

.

Jon has plans for date night. He always does. It’s just that these plans are a little more deliberate, a little more important, and a lot more stressful. Chris generously agreed to leave the apartment and stay with Aaron for the night, which makes him the best roommate that Jon could ask for.

The plans aren’t elaborate, per se, but they involve some last-minute grocery shopping. Jon takes advantage of the time between his classes ending and auditions ending to take care of that. He gets everything he could possibly need, a little extra just in case, cleans most of the apartment, and possibly also works himself into a panic along the way. It’s just a date night, except it’s a little more than just any date night, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to implode, so he does the only thing he can think of and makes a phone call.

“I think I’m going to die tonight,” he says morosely, looking at the apartment. He vacuumed. He fluffed the fucking pillows on the couch. He’s got a problem.

“Jon, literally, shut the fuck up,” Barbara says, because she’s the worst person he knows. “It’s just date night.”

“But-” Jon drags a hand through his hair. “Okay, I know it’s just date night.”

“Then why are you so nervous?”

“Because I-”

“That was rhetorical,” she says, and Jon freezes. “Chris said you asked him to leave for the night, which means that you’re doing something special, and trust me, whatever it is, he’s going to love it.”

Jon cringes, silently thanking God that she can’t see him. If Miles doesn’t love this, they’re going to have a problem. “I know.”

“Then calm down!”

“I’m trying!”

Barbara must magically sense that he’s actually genuinely fucked up about this, because when she speaks again it’s gentler. “It’s Miles. Whatever you do, he’s still going to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky.”

Jon crashes down onto the couch, dizzy with relief. That was somehow exactly what he needed to hear.

“That was exactly what I needed to hear,” he tells Barbara, because she deserves to know that she’s a magic psychic.

“Go get your man, Jon,” she says, sounding impossibly fond. “You’re going to have a good night.”

Jon hopes, for everyone’s sake, that she’s right. She probably is.

.

From: Jordan (5:43 PM)  
can we do drink night sometime soon?

From: Jordan (5:44 PM)  
not design drink night just “get jordan drunk” night

To: Jordan (5:45 PM)  
Yeah, sometime next week. Everything all right?

From: Jordan (5:45 PM)  
approximately

To: Jordan (5:46 PM)  
That’s not a yes.

From: Jordan (5:46 PM)  
no backing out you already said yes. next week.

.

Miles and Kerry are sitting on the stage whispering to each other when Jon gets back to the school.

“They’ve been going for twenty minutes,” Ryan says, sitting in the middle of the auditorium seats. “They might be a while.”

Jon shrugs and makes his way over to where Ryan’s sitting. “It’s a big decision, I’m sure.”

“I’m letting them have a lot of control,” Ryan admits. “They’ve got clearer visions for this than I do, so I’m telling them who I like, and they’re figuring out what they can do to cast them.”

“Found the lead character yet?”

“Not yet. There are a couple more days of auditions, though.”

Jon nods, stretching out in his seat. “So, I’ve gotta ask. Miles and Kerry wrote the play, but whose idea was the story?”

“Oh, not mine.” Ryan grins. “I said I wanted a story about building community.”

“What did Lindsay want?”

Ryan’s smile goes crooked. “Aliens.”

Jon laughs. “That explains a lot.”

“And of course, Miles and Kerry were more than willing to write about aliens.”

“How excited were they when you said the word aliens?”

“Oh, they were-” Ryan snorts. “I thought Miles was going to faint of pure joy. Have you read the script?”

“I read the second draft, but I haven’t read anything since,” Jon admits. Miles had offered repeatedly, but Jon decided that he wanted to be surprised on opening night. He trusts Miles to write a play worth seeing.

“It’s pretty different now.” Ryan leans back, looking up at the ceiling beams. “You know, with them doing most of the casting, the play that I’m directing is barely mine.”

“But it’s still yours,” Jon feels compelled to point out.

Ryan grins, and Jon is surprised by the edge to it. “Oh, it’s going to be mine by the time I’m done with it.”

“Jon!” Miles yells from the stage, jumping to his feet.

“We’re done talking,” Kerry says, letting Miles pull him up. “Ryan, we’ve got notes.”

Miles nods seriously. “Yeah, Jon, it’ll just be, like, five minutes-”

“Or zero,” Kerry says, and pushes Miles away. Miles stumbles sideways two steps and makes an offended noise, but Kerry stands his ground. “This is your fancy official date night, I can go over the notes with Ryan without you.”

“But-”

“Get out of here, Miles,” Ryan says, still staring at the ceiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow for more auditions. Have a good night.” As if to make a point, he pushes at Jon’s shoulder.

Jon glances at him. “You know that did absolutely nothing to move me, right?”

“Eh.” Ryan shrugs. “Solidarity with Kerry. Get him out of here.”

When Jon looks back at the stage, Miles is in the process of letting Kerry go from a less-than-comfortable hug. When he catches Jon’s eye he grins, and Jon grins back. He feels a part of him settle into place and another part remember why he was panicking earlier and burst back into butterflies.

But, really. It’s just date night. He can do date night.

.

The plan is pretty simple: Jon takes Miles home, he stays the night, they go to work in the morning. It’s not a big deal. It’s not.

“Did you clean?” Miles asks as he follows Jon into the apartment. “It smells like lemons.”

“And that’s how you know I cleaned?” Jon toes his shoes off and heads to the kitchen. “All right, you ready to hear the plan?”

“I’m ready.” Miles is practically bouncing as he follows Jon. “What’s the plan?”

Jon opens a cabinet and pulls out a box of lasagna noodles. “This is the plan.”

Miles’s face lights up.

Lasagna-making has a few different parts, but Jon knows the recipe by heart, and it’s easy to direct Miles. It goes a lot faster than normal with another pair of hands, that much is sure, and because it’s Miles it’s easy to fall into a rhythm of conversation. Jon got the lasagna recipe from his parents, and when he mentions that they talk about growing up, about childhoods and siblings and pets as kids.

“Okay, so,” Miles says, “how many dogs do you plan on owning one day?”

Jon thinks about it. “At least one, that’s for sure,” he decides. “I’d be all right with two or three, though, if there was space for them.”

Miles nods. “I’d want a couple too. Cats?”

“Not as big of a deal to own.”

“Oh, good,” Miles says, “because I have, like, no interest in owning a cat.” And Jon’s heart fucking stops.

The thing is that he’s been trying so hard, so hard not to say anything about the future that might imply that he plans on being either with Miles or without him. He doesn’t know how Miles feels about the idea of committing, however hypothetically, to a future together, but he doesn’t want to close that door either. It’s a difficult line to walk, and he’s having some trouble sticking to it, all things considered.

All he knows is that he stopped thinking about life in terms of just himself a few weeks ago, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. He feels like it should be scarier than it is, but he has his reasons. He has his moments and facts and blips in time, he has a collection of seconds that made him think _maybe._ And, well, he’s not thinking maybe anymore. He’s sure. And even more, he thinks that Miles will be sure too.

“I would want a hamster,” Jon decides, as soon as his heart restarts. “Just to have one.”

Miles laughs. “If we’re getting pets just to have them, I’m getting a lizard.”

“Gecko or iguana?”

“Why, what’s the difference?”

Jon stares at Miles. “Do you not know the difference between a gecko and an iguana?”

“Uh, one is bigger?” Miles lifts his chin defiantly. “I’ll know once I get the lizard, I got this.”

“You got this,” Jon repeats skeptically. “All right, sure, whatever you say.”

“Thanks, dear,” Miles chirps, and goes back to wilting spinach.

Yeah, Jon is pretty sure that this is going to go just fine.

.

It’s not until later, after the lasagna is half-gone and they’ve spent hours talking about students and favorite foods and anything they can think of, that Jon is completely ready.

“We should order dessert,” Miles muses, leaning against Jon’s shoulder. “Is that a thing? Cookies to go? Just call a pizza place and only order dessert?”

Jon smiles. There’s a movie on the TV, something that he’s not paying any attention to. He doesn’t think Miles is either. “We probably could. Google it?”

“We could absolutely google it, but I don’t wanna get up.” As if to prove his point, he leans more firmly against Jon, taking one of Jon’s hands loosely in his own. Jon strokes his thumb across the back of Miles’s hand, and Miles hums contentedly. “We could be rich if we did that, you know.”

“Did what?”

“Dessert delivery. We could just bake cookies and bring them to the hungry masses.”

“It’d be revolutionary.”

“We’d be pioneers. We’d make them gluten-free and everything.”

Jon goes quiet for a second. He doesn’t remember the last time that Miles took him anywhere that didn’t have gluten-free food. He doesn’t remember the last person who looked out for him like that, without a second thought or without him feeling like he should apologize for limiting options. He’s never made that lasagna with anyone outside of his own family before. He’s never had anything like this before.

 _I’m sure,_ he thinks, and keeps moving his thumb across Miles’s hand. “Miles?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Miles goes completely still, and Jon suddenly remembers why he was nervous about this to begin with. It’s one thing to be sure about himself, but another entirely to assume about Miles, and even if he’s sure-

“Oh,” Miles says - breathes, really, barely above a whisper, and his fingers tighten around Jon’s. “Yeah, I- I love you too.”

Jon smiles, shifting just enough for Miles to see it. He hopes that some of the warmth that he’s feeling is coming through in that, because he doesn’t know how to articulate it. He has to rely on Miles to figure it out. That’s less scary than it normally is. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Jesus fucking-” Miles sits fully upright, moving so he’s facing Jon. His eyes are bright and Jon can see love, god, love for him, Miles is in love with him.

“I love you,” Jon says again, just because he can and that’s liberation at its goddamn finest.

Miles laughs, his free hand curling around the back of Jon’s neck. “That’s fucking awesome. We’re in love, Jon.”

“We’re in love,” Jon echoes, and leans in without a second thought. Miles meets him in the middle, kisses him not like he’s dying for it but like he’s living for it, and all of Jon’s thoughts blur into static, something bright and warm.

Miles pulls back first and immediately leans up to kiss Jon’s forehead. “Is this why you were nervous about tonight?”

“I wasn’t nervous,” Jon lies.

“Well, that’s good, because I was.” Miles kisses him one more time, quick and firm, and then his face splits into a bright, beautiful smile. He looks happy, in the purest way that Jon has ever seen. And Jon made that happen.

“You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jon says without thinking. He doesn’t have to think. He knows that it’s true.

Miles shifts around so he’s leaning against Jon’s shoulder again, tucked firmly against his side. “You too,” he murmurs. His hand is still in Jon’s.

.

Jon calls Miles after auditions the next day while he’s heating up leftovers, just because he can. “How’d it go?”

“We found our lead,” Miles announces, bright with excitement. “This kid’s fucking brilliant, Ryan said so and everything. Kerry and I going to tailor the part for him.”

“That’s awesome. Anyone I know?”

“Kid named Jeremy… I don’t remember his last name but I think it starts with a D?”

Jon grins. Of course. “Dooley. He’s in one of my classes this semester.”

“See, he just keeps looking better and better.”

“My students go places.”

“Your students are the best,” Miles says with feeling. “Hey, by the way, what are you doing Saturday night?”

Jon thinks about it. Drinks with Jordan are happening soon, but they haven’t decided when, so that’s moveable. “Probably nothing.”

“How would you feel about dinner with Burnie?”

“Burnie?”

“Yeah, you know, the guy who hired us.” Jon can picture Miles shrugging, nonchalant as can be. Burnie is the kind of person who has dinner with his employees every so often, just to catch up. Come to think of it, it’s been a while since Jon’s last Burnie dinner. “He offered to take me out, and I mentioned you, and he said he’d just do it with the both of us.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Jon decides. It’s Burnie. He can’t say no. “Saturday?”

“Saturday. I’ll text you details when we decide them.” Miles pauses. “Hey. Jon.”

Jon knows exactly what’s about to happen. “Yes, Miles.”

“Iiiiiii love you.”

He knew it was coming. He smiles anyways. “I love you too.”

“Saturday.”

“Saturday,” Jon repeats, making a mental promise to stop by one of Miles’s classes this week and surprise him. He’s doing a course on poetic analysis of popular music, that sounds like it’s worth a visit. “Bye, Miles.”

“Bye, Jon,” Miles chirps and hangs up.

Jon looks at the leftover lasagna and smiles, more than leftover lasagna really deserves to be smiled at. “My boyfriend loves me,” he says aloud, just because he can, and goes to the fridge to see what they have that goes with lasagna.

**Author's Note:**

> Our title this time comes from [For Annabelle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzsP6nCaXNI) by Band of Horses. As always, say hello at [Tumblr](https://elysewillcms.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ezrabridgers) if you'd like.


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